Eyeing the one called 'Anok', Zaas can't quite make out what he is.
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Looking to Laara, as he pauses before the third floor, the man frowns. "You seem to have a tendency to get hit. If you don't mind, perhaps I can help."
Reaching over to her, Iskar grumbles in a guttural tongue. "chaq let boghaj'a' DIr je no'"
"May your skin harden as my ancestors."
Looking over the Intruders, he asks simply. "What is it that was taken from you? What proof do you have you are the ones wronged and not the proprietor of this establishment?"
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Medda responds, “These Blakros people stole our most precious heirloom.” Medda retrieves a bundle of bloody bandages, then unwraps it to reveal a dagger hilt with only the fragment of a black blade. “It belonged to Ivvora, a champion of Vildeis who vanquished the great black evil from our land over 900 years ago. We kept it safe until the Blakros agents stole it three months ago.”
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Laara graciously accepts the scary half-orc's casting. Taking the hint however, she moves towards the dwarf at the far end of the wall.
"Yeah. The way we were told you were the thieves. Hence the trying to barge through the door. But you're saying the Blakros' took that from you first for their exhibit? From where?"
After a beat, the stumped half-elf also adds "And what is Vildeis? One of your Twinhorn chiefs?"
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Hugh eyes the beast with caution and mouths the word wolverine at the rest of the party.
"At least we can all agree that we're all thieves here, not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you. The man on the high horse, metaphorically and literally, does have a good point. Do tell us about these 'agents'."
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"The Blakros clan... like the elf at the bottom of the stairs. Never trust an elf, their long days leave them without a care for simple mortals." Anok growls as his eyes settle on Laara.
Medda responds with forced calm, “We are from the northern lands—the Realm of the Mammoth Lords to you southerners. Our following, or tribe, has been searching for our stolen heritage for months.”
She adds, "No, Vildeis is a powerful angel, dedicated to the eradication of all evil everywhere."
Anok responds in his deep, booming and hollow voice, “They came into our camp asking about Ivvora. Medda gave them shelter and told Ivvora’s story, but we would not part with the hilt. The next morning the hilt and the Blakros agents were gone. We tracked it here, to this building. Now the Blakros clan, they display it like a trophy to taunt us.”
"Proof? You want proof?" Medda steps forward. “It is bound to me.” She grasps the hilt tightly, then her eyes begin to glow with a brilliant white light as her scars begin to seep thin rivulets of blood. “Does that answer your question?”
Anok steps forward defensively and proudly announces, “She is the guardian of Ivvora’s hilt, passed from keeper to keeper for generations—or for her, from parent to child. She is the first evening’s daughter in decades,” he boasts, earning him a withering look from Medda before he adds, “And it is she who can sense and wield the hilt’s power properly.”
Medda answers, “Stealing back what is ours was not our first choice. We walked the honorable path first. But when we asked for it back from your cur-a-tor, that Nigel man refused. He said he did not honor ‘seller’s remorse.’”
The warriors' grips tighten on their blades, and you all realize now would be the time to bargain for a "peaceful" resolution to this situation or face other consequences.
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"As far as I'm concerned, I've heard enough. Let us escort you out of this death trap of a building safely, and you may return to your lands. I would not delay, as other less sympathetic forces in Absalom will probably hunt you. I can ride with you to the docks, if you need a guide. Or we can all ride to Diobel if you have mounts of your own. LET'S GO!"
(reduce by 2 if Medda is not considered a noble)
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Medda looks up at Chaine and considers his words carefully.
"Very well, as I do believe it would be foolhardy to think we alone could escape the length of this great city in one piece. Let us go speak to your elf friend to further our case. Darg, Thrak - get our packs."
She motions to the other warriors to gather their belongings, and just as they move past you down the stairs, Anok speaks again.
"You know, when the metal men attacked us, Ivvora’s spirit called through the hilt to her allies’ armaments. She protects us, even n-...”
Without warning, the chandelier above your heads comes crashing down in the center of the room. The pieces explode outward but are suddenly sucked into a large devilish form. The creature hisses as it manifests.
Medda screams. "Help us!"
------------------------------
Sensing his might, the devil lashes out at the cavalier, but meekly. Realizing its predicament, it quickly turns invisible.
Blue Devil
Iskar (Shield)
Torrag (Mage Armor)
Hugh
Laara (Barkskin)
Chaine
Anok
Zaas (Mage Armor)
Grim (Bulls Strength, Shield of Faith, Ironskin)
Medda
The skeletal monstrosity is a Bone Devil, also known as an Osyluth and looks like a cross between a carrion-fed insect and withered cadaver. It moves in unsettling lurches.
For every 5 that you beat the DC, you may ask for one piece of information from this list.
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Shocked at the appearance, and subsequent disappearance, of the creature, Iskar stand dumbfounded for a second.
"What was...I..." stammers the man. Regaining his composure, he narrows his eyes and draws an intricate pattern in the air before him. His free hand forming a circle for him to peer through, he cries out "Нигоҳ кунед ба ҳайвони ваҳшӣ!
"
"Show yourself, vile beast!"
Searching for the invisible creature, he moves to block the exit.
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"There!" Iskar yells, pointing to the same spot that Torrag targets.
The glitterdust goes off as planned, revealing the outline of the creature as it stood.
Blue Devil
Iskar (Shield)
Torrag (Mage Armor)
Hugh
Laara (Barkskin)
Chaine
Anok
Zaas (Mage Armor)
Grim (Bulls Strength, Shield of Faith, Ironskin)
Medda
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"Oi... you're a big one hey? what do you have to fear? show yourself and stop fighting like a coward!" says Chaine, charging.
[Swift - Challenge: (+3 dodge +2 sacred bonus to AC vs. target of Challenge [Order of the Lion/Champion armor]; AC 28, t17, ff26) (+10dmg [Vambraces of the Tactician])]
Normal: You cannot turn when making a charge.
for
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"Cay-den Cail!" Laara yells as a massive monstrosity erupts in front of her. It vanishes just as quickly, but when Torrag reveals the monster's still there she quickly reacts to lash out at the threat.
Think you're scary huh? See about that!
for
for
for
She spares a second to look over at Medda - noticing most of her men seem to have fled. "In this spirirt of cooperation I can guarantee this isn't one of ours. How about you?"
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Hugh positions himself in the right fashion, just narrowly missing the devil's claw as he tumbles. Ultimately, his grand finish never materializes.
Laara lays into the monster with flurry, but only one jab hits solid enough to harm. Even still she feels that some sort of vile force prevented the strike from doing more damage.
Chaine upon Silvermane leaps through the room, leaving a wake of toppled chairs and vases. His lance connects with the devil, but glances off its spiny hull.
Anok roars with fury and strikes at the devil with clenched fists, many of you feel a rage building up within you despite the futility of his blows.
Grim takes a mighty swing but it passees harmlessly through the creature's voids.
Medda shouts "Of course not. Fight for us, we will fight for you!" to Laara before she attempts to cast a spell. Panicked, she moves for cover. The devil's tail snaps at her, striking her in the neck.
Respecting her prowess in striking it, the devil spins to Laara and launches a spectacular full assault. It hisses with glee as every strike connects.
Blue Devil -5 hp
Iskar (Shield, See Invis)
Torrag (Mage Armor)
Hugh
Laara (Barkskin) -47 hp <Fort Save Needed>
Chaine
Anok (20' Aura of Fury)
Zaas (Mage Armor)
Grim (Bulls Strength, Shield of Faith, Ironskin, Divine Favor)
Medda
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Laara grunts, then grunts two more times, as she's savaged by the devil. "So mad? Just a love tap..."
Despite her bravado, she's hurt and feels her strength begin to sap away. But no chance of rest until this thing goes... With a breath/sigh, she sees Hugh in position across the way and smirks. "All right. Let's try this again."
for plus
for plus
for plus
She then five-foot steps closer to the stragne warrior...and the door.
With a nod to Iskar, Zaas maneuvers himself near the creature. Biting with all his might, he tries to pull the beasts ire from Laara.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Hoping the massive beast doesn't see him, Iskar sprints across the field, placing his free hand back on his axe.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Seeing his attacks aren't quite reaching the mark, Zaas tries again, but focuses on accuracy.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Zaas steps forward and whiffs with all but one claw as the creature's bones prove too formidable.
-----------------------
Iskar tries to reach Laara without notice, but the devil has other plans and whips at him with its spiked tail. Torrag begins to conjure another combatant.
Laara bravely fights on, just nicking the mighty devil twice but making it significantly weaker with each stroke.
Chaine upon Silvermane rounds quickly and strikes with unbelievable power this time. Anok smashes it across the face as it reels from the charge and Zaas sneaks in another claw. Just in time for Grim to finish it off with with a single slice of Thunderfury.
As it falls, Medda races across the disintegrating bones to Laara. "You have certainly saved my life, brave one. Please, allow me to heal your wounds."
Touching her hand to them and smiling peacefully, Laara and Iskar's wounds are suddenly and neatly mended. Medda then looks up at the still fuming phantom. "It is over, my friend. These new allies have seen to that. They have proven themselves mighty foes against evil. We are most certainly in their debt, but we should speak no more until their leaders are present."
When enough time passes from the din of battle, a distinctly elvish voice calls up meekly from the stairwell. "Is it safe?!?"
Blue Devil <bewildered and sickened> -127 hp
Iskar (Shield, See Invis) <need fort save>
Torrag (Mage Armor)
Hugh
Laara (Barkskin)
Chaine
Anok (Aura of Fury)
Zaas (Mage Armor)
Grim (Bulls Strength, Shield of Faith, Ironskin, Divine Favor)
Medda
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"Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't." the still concealed Nigel says with a defiant laugh, his voice trailing away. "Ambrus Valsin is waiting outside, though, and he wishes to speak with all involved. I suggest you hurry."
"Who is -- Ambrus Valsin?" Medda inquires, then quickly adds. "Tell him I am Medda Spirtbreaker of the Twinhorn Tribe."
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Punching the devil feels like punching a brick wall - a pointed, slimy, malevolent wall - but Laara keeps her guard up and keeps striking until the fiend vansihes. Almost immeadiately, the brawler slumps against a nearby chair, virtually exhausted. As Medda appraoches, she accepts the Kellid's touch with a grateful smile.
"Thank you. But don't linger on it." She gingerly touches a spot where mere moments before a pint of blood had been escaping. "All I did was provide a little distraction. If I was brave and smart, maybe next time I can protect you without an impaling."
Laara looks up at the 'guardian' and glances over at the other, more spectral warrior. "I'm not sure your friend likes us to much regardless. What...is he? I don't think I've seen anything quite like him before."
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The crowd of guards, onlookers, and concerned citizens outside the Blakros Museum quiets as Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin approaches a woman clad in furs exiting the museum. "My Pathfinder agents tell me that you are Medda of the Twinhorn following, is that correct?"
"Yes, I speak for the following." Medda glares at Nigel Aldain, "I have come to reclaim what is rightfully ours. His agents stole our most sacred relic after we refused to sell it. We have traveled through dangerous lands to claim it back, and still he refused—"
"My agents claim they bought it," Nigel protests. "I’m not going to just give it to you because you stomp into my office demanding priceless artifacts."
Valsin interjects, "Nigel, let us listen to her story and decide how to proceed. Medda, tell us about this relic. Why is it so important to you?"
Medda takes a deep breath. "Over 900 years ago, a powerful warrior named Ivvora came into our camp. She spoke of an angel named Vildeis who guided her hunt for a great dark evil she called Eshimka. Several of our scouts had recently disappeared, later found ripped into pieces. The elders insisted that we help banish this evil and ensure the safety of our following. They laid a trap for the evil spirit, luring it to our sacred standing stones on the winter solstice. There, Ivvora and the great dark evil, Eshimka, fought a mighty battle that raged for hours. Just as the night was darkest, Ivvora dealt Eshimka a telling blow, digging her dagger deep into its flesh. The creature tried to escape, but it only snapped off the blade and then collapsed on the center stone. The elders finished their ritual and destroyed it completely.
"Ivvora rested with us for the winter before departing to eradicate more evil from the world, but not before leaving us the hilt of her weapon." Medda withdraws a bundle of bloody cloth from her bag, then unwraps it to reveal a small hilt with a bloody fragment of black metal. "She told us to bring the hilt back to the standing stones every year at the winter solstice to keep evil away. We’ve had to travel for so long to retrieve the hilt, I’m afraid we won’t make it back in time for the solstice. Please, let me leave now."
Ambrus Valsin contemplates Medda’s story for a moment, then nods, his brow furrowed. "Nigel, you should send for the Blakros agents who ‘obtained’ the hilt and hear what they have to say. Medda, I’m going to send as many Pathfinder agents as you deem necessary to travel with you and your following. I want to ensure we return this relic to its proper place." Nigel starts to protest, but Valsin cuts him off. "Nigel, you wanted my help; you are getting it. I’m helping you fix a mistake your agents made. As for your museum," Valsin takes a moment to survey the heavily damaged museum, "I’m told most of the damage was done by your own security, not Medda and her following.
"Pathfinders, prepare to head north to the Realm of the Mammoth Lords."
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Medda and Ambrus Valsin discuss long into the night how the Society might help the Twinhorn following. By the morning they have concluded that while teleportation magic might take the Kellids and Pathfinders as far as Lastwall, Medda insists that Ivvora’s hilt has lost some of its spiritual strength since being stolen. She believes the only way to restore its power is to walk the same path that Ivvora took into the Twinhorn’s land after the Shining Crusade—and that path leads straight through the Hold of Belkzen, an unforgiving land controlled by orcs!
Society mages gather to transport small groups at a time to Lastwall, and from there, the convoy of Kellids, Pathfinders, and supply wagons set off north. For all their brutal reputation, the orcs have become somewhat more welcoming of caravans at the urging of Grask Uldeth, one of the strongest orc chieftains and the ruler of the de facto capital Urgir. Those who stop at the Table of Ralock can purchase safe passage in the form of special tokens from tribal representatives. It remains to be seen whether the Pathfinders can secure enough.
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While Medda and Ambrus discuss the mission through the night, Chaine invites his fellow Pathfinders at his townhouse in Green Ridge. He asks his Ulfen butler Hyhvvan to prepare a copious meal and sends his squire to the nearest brewpub to fetch a cask of fine red wine.
"We're heading north Iacobas: make sure you buy yourself a winter outfit. Go to the Caydenites and purchase six scrolls of endure elements, as well as boots of the winterlands."
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Iskar looks towards Hugh with a grin. "Orc? Nope...never heard of it." he says with a wink.
The half-orc's attire has failed to change from the city, yet he and his companion seem unaffected by the cold.
Looking around to get his bearings, he strides up to one of the orcs. In his native, guttural language, the man inquires "nuqneH, passage vegh puH baj DayaHmoH maH. nuq poQ SoH maHvaD?"
"Hello, we wish to earn passage through your lands. What do you require of us?"
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"I'm not sure your friend likes us to much regardless. What...is he? I don't think I've seen anything quite like him before."
Anok growls, “I’m a phantom. I am Anok, and I protect the guardian of Ivvora’s hilt, Medda.”
Medda smiles, "He is my friend. Like a ranger who takes on a mighty wolf as kin. Only he has passed from the world a long time ago. Now he serves me. Or rather, we serve each other." Her nod is met silently with his.
---------------------------
The doors to the city open up grudgingly to Iskar's greeting.
Urgir, capital of Belkzen, land of the orcs, is a dusty city composed of a discordant combination of crumbling dwarven architecture and rickety shelters.
As you wait near the entrance (securing an inn for the night) you are constantly eyed by scores of orcs, half-orcs and other unsavory humanoids that pass by. Medda returns from the interior of the city with a dramatic frown on her face.
"This is worse than I thought." she sighs, "In order to allow safe passage through Belkzen and protection from the orc tribes we will need plenty of these."
She holds out a handful of oddly shaped copper coins bearing the image of snarling orc.
"Tribal tokens. I've purchased as many as I can with gold, but they said they are sold out. I fear we don't have enough for all my warriors... and all of you. If we spread out and ask around, maybe we can find some more. Be creative, don't let your first impression of this city be your only one. Everyone here is not just a thug or pit fighter. Just most of them." she laughs.
Peering at the inn behind you she smiles. "We'll meet at supper then. Good luck to you, my friends.
With a nod, she turns away to speak to other Pathfinder groups gathered nearby.